


Exhibit A

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode: s01e15 Celestial Navigation, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-04-14
Updated: 2001-04-14
Packaged: 2019-05-15 07:57:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14786543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Donna ends up at Josh's place drunk, wearing an uncomfortable dress and old insecurities. Josh gets flustered and blushes a lot. The next morning it's Donna's turn.





	1. Exhibit A

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Title: Exhibit A  
Author: Bramble

Summary: Donna ends up at Josh's place drunk, wearing an uncomfortable dress and old insecurities. Josh gets flustered and blushes a lot. The next morning it's Donna's turn.

Rating: R: Some nudity, a little inappropriate touching, much innuendo, racy talk, a couple of bad words; stuff of that nature -- no sex tho.

Category: Josh/Donna

Spoliers: Well, let's see, Celestial Navigation served as inspiration to this freakish epic. :) There are tiny, specific references to events in "Bartlet's Third State of the Union", "Mr. Willis from Ohio", "The War at Home", and "Take This Sabbath Day".

Disclaimes: Aaron Sorkin owns them...it's probably better that way; he only makes them drop their undies and dance around in bathrobes.

Notes: This is totally asinine and I apologize in advance. The whole thing started as a short piece for the benefit of writing one line that amused me. It wasn't working in the third person, so I switched it over to Josh's first person POV -- then it just sort of took on a twisted life of it's own. Oh yeah, and North Dakota is a perfectly nice state. Really, I have relatives that live there, I meant no offense. :)

****

Damn, I'm tired.

As I walk up the steps to my condo and let myself in the main door, I can't help but wonder -- where is she? I mean, it's 2:00 AM, on a Wednesday night, wait, okay, Thursday morning, whatever, that always confuses me.

Where was I? Oh yes, Donnatella Moss. So, she has at work tomorrow by 8:00 AM, I *told* her she had to be in by that time. Shouldn't she be home by now?

I absentmindedly unlock the front door. Hmmm, maybe I'll leave another message on her machine. Or I could just drive by her apartment and wait for her to get home? You know, just to make sure she's safe. Hmmm, that might be a plan, first I want to change clothes, put on some jeans or something. If I'm going to act like an idiot, I need to be comfortable. Wait, I'm not being an idiot, I'm just *concerned*. Yeah, I'm just concerned about her, that's allowed, isn't it?

I close the front door behind me and not two small steps inside, my right foot bumps against something. It's small but it's just enough to catch me off balance for a second and I swing my arms around trying to steady myself.

"What the hell was that?" I mumble under my breath.

I hear something over by the couch. Before investigating that though, I turn back and look at the item that caused me to trip. The light coming in from my window provides me with the opportunity to see a shoe.

A shiny, black, girly shoe. I swing my head towards the couch and see a lump stretched out under a blanket, with a blonde head sticking out the top. Well. I seem to have found my missing assistant.

"Donna"?

"Josh?" comes a soft, muffled reply.

"Why are you on my couch at 2:00 in the morning?" Relief fills my body as I turn to put my backpack down and turn on a light. Well, this should be interesting -- it's funny how fast irritation can turn to amusement. I'm tired, but I find the inspiration to play around with this little development a bit.

"It was closer than my place, weird guy at the bar, roommate left," comes her jumbled reply, "I've got a key, only two blocks from the place."

"So, this is why I give you the night off?" I tease, "so you can go out and get drunk and end up on my....Donna!"

Okay, I did the high voice thing there. I know it. But, it's justified, trust me. Because when I turned around, Donna was sitting up. The blanket had fallen down around her waist and, well, she appears to be naked. On my couch.

She looks at me with a sleepy face (yeah, that's it, keep looking at her face), and says, "Yeah?"

'Yeah?' She says, 'yeah?' She's exposing womanly parts to me and she says 'yeah', like I'm asking her if she likes apples or something.

Get a grip, I tell myself, you've seen breasts before, many, many breasts. I take a deep breath.

"Donna, why are you naked on my couch?" See, I can be nonchalant too.

She looks down and starts giggling. "Oops", suddenly the blanket is back up around her chest as she securely gathers it under her arms.

"I'm not actually naked, I have..nunderwear on", she pauses and begins to pull the blanket up her legs. Uh oh, I think she's going to show me. I'm over there in about two strides and my hand reaches out and manages to stop her mid-thigh.

"That's okay, I believe you. I don't need to see your, ahh, nunderwear." I need to remember that word for later; it might even get me coffee someday. I pat her leg and sit down next to her. I really need to sit down for a minute; just to gather my thoughts, not to think about half-naked Donna.

"I took my dress off", her voice gets very serious, breaking me out of my concentration. I turn towards her and she's looking at me with these big, unfocused eyes, "it wasn't very comfy. It's on the floor", she finishes and tries to motion to the area of the floor she means, between the couch and the coffee table, I assume.

Unfortunately, she has underestimated gravity's pull and almost topples over, I have to swoop in and steady her.

"Yeah, Donna, I get the idea." I prop her back up securely on the couch and get up, patting her shoulder in the process. "I'm going to go get you something to sleep in because...I think that would be a good idea right now. Keep the blanket on until I get back."

I think I'll turn up the heat too.

I hardly make it four steps before I hear an unhappy "uh-oh" from the couch.

"What?"

"I'm going to be sick again." She mumbles as she passes me, blanket clutched tightly around her.

"Again?"

***

I follow her into the bathroom in time to see her fling herself to the floor. Thank god I am a slob and left the toilet seat up.

And we're off to the races. Sighing, I sit down behind her and pull her hair gently out of her face. Well, this is something new -- at least in this combination.

While I was recovering from the shooting, Donna would come over during the day to bring me lunch; the reason being something about not trusting me to eat healthy. Anyway, one day she gets here and I am in the exact position she's in now. Of course, I didn't get to do happy hour first; no, just some new pain medication that wasn't really agreeing with my 'delicate system'. She came in to the bathroom regardless of my protests and sat down behind me and rubbed my back softly while I puked. She even whispered to me about how it was going to be okay; a little above and beyond the call of duty, if you ask me. But then, I guess we've always been a little more than boss and assistant. There, I said it. Sue me. Okay, maybe that's an unfortunate choice of words. Never mind.

So, tonight, I figure this is the least I can do for her. At some point I realize I am running my hand lightly up and down her blanket-covered spine, trying to comfort her, because she really does sound pretty miserable. She saves me from having to think of something encouraging to whisper in her ear by moaning and setting the side of her face down on the rim of the porcelain; the universal signal for 'I'm done now'.

"Do you think you're done?" I ask gently just to make sure. You always want to be sure in these cases.

"Yeah."

I get up and put the lid down, flushing with one hand as I help her up with the other, setting her down on the seat in the next second. Oh yeah, I can bring the multi-tasking. I try to clean her up with a washcloth. I think she feels a little better because she looks up to give me a weak smile as finish by brushing the cool, wet cloth across the back of her neck.

I return the smile. It's genuine because I really am glad she's here; I'm glad she's okay and that she's with me.

"Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back."

***

"Donna, put this on, okay?" Her eyes are closed when I return and I touch her arm gently, offering a well-worn, Harvard t-shirt and some flannel boxers.

"Hmmm", she replies sleepily as she opens her eyes and takes them from me. I have to prod her a few more times, but I finally get her woken up enough to change. I leave the room quickly before I see anything revealed behind the blanket she unceremoniously drops to the ground.

A few minutes later she stumbles out of the bathroom. She looks a little better but she's still kind of wobbly. She must have drank a lot because normally, Donna can hold her liquor -- I mean, for a girl, of course.

"Okay?"

"Yeah"

"Come on, let's get you to bed." I take her hand in mine and start leading her towards the unmade bed.

"I can take the couch, s'ok".

"No, come on, this is closer to the bathroom anyway in case you get sick again." I use my gentle, reasonable voice as I pull the covers back and sit her down on the bed. I've found this voice is good for angry press secretaries, I figure it might work on drunk assistants as well.

"I'm sorry about this...you want your key back?" She asks me in a sad, small voice.

"What? No, of course not." I give her another smile, showing the dimples so that she knows I'm being sincere, "This is kind of fun. You're drunk at my place for once." I feel the smirk start to pull at the corner of my mouth.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"If you lay down", I reply, using the reasonable voice again.

This is going kind of smoothly -- to think she complains about it when she has to do this for me. I maneuver her legs under the covers in one fluid motion. She obviously doesn't deal as effectively with people as I do. Piece of cake, this is. I've only been home about twenty minutes and she's already gotten sick, I've gotten her cleaned up, and now she's all ready for bed. In fact, she's all but asleep. I mean, there was that little detour through naked-womanly-parts land back there on the couch, but nothing serious, we're back on schedule. I am so good at this.

"No, seriously. I've always wondered if...cause once", she's looking up at me as she pulls her legs up underneath her, "and out on the couch...", she motions to the living room with her hand and finishes with, "do you think my breasts are too small?"

"What?" I think my gentle reasonable voice just disappeared. In fact, I think I just used my high voice again. "I mean, that's your question?" I say slowly, authoratively, as I try to regain control.

"Yes", she nods for emphasis, looking kind of stricken, "are they are too small?"

"Okay, I did actually hear you then, ah, I think it's time for you to go to sleep now." Okay, this is not a problem, the schedule will stay on track. She's drunk and I am a graduate of Harvard and Yale -- it's just no match.

"Josh, answer the question, you saw them, do men only like big...you know.."

"Donna!" Okay, maybe this is a little...problematic because she doesn't seem to be dropping the issue; but I'm not throwing in the towel yet. I just need to leave the room, very quickly. My face feels warm. Am I blushing? No, I couldn't be, I don't blush. I'll try reasonable again, a little firmer this time. I mean, just so she knows who's boss.

"Donnatella, this is kind of inappropriate, don't you think?" I pat her hand, "Plus, you're kind of drunk here. You should just go to sleep. If you still want to ask me about any of this tomorrow, I'll be more than happy not to answer you then, okay?" Just back up, Lyman, slow and steady out the door. Be stealthy. She won't even notice, hell, I'm surprised she hasn't passed out yet. Yeah, no match at all, just get out of the room.

"I could get them enlarged or something". I stop. "That's stupid." She's staring at me all sad faced and rumpled looking. Her make-up is a little smeared, she's swaying a bit and all I can think is that this image of her in my bed seems so right. I mean, aside from the drunk, sad, and swaying part. Okay, and the throwing up part. I mean, she's sitting here, looking like she's about to cry over some crazy,

drunk-ass idea that her body is somehow not amazing...and I find her so, completely endearing right now, sitting in my bed. I can't help but think she should be in my bed more often.

Whoa. Where did that come from? Well, I do actually have an idea about that but I can't think about that now, while I have my hands full with this. I mean...oh hell.

I accept that defeat might be a slim possibility and start back towards the bed.

"You don't really think you need to get your breasts enlarged, do you."

"I don't know. They seem kind of little." *Hiccup*

"Donna, you're..." I stop. I sigh. Ordered discipline might not have worked in CJ's loony press room, but it is sure as hell is going to work in my bedroom.

"Ok, it's late. I am not doing this with you. I'm tired and you're still drunk. Donnatella, I want you to lie down and go to sleep." There, reasonable yet firm. Just to make sure this will work, I try to run out to the couch. I almost make it too.

"Jooooooosh!"

I spin back around in time to see her pulling the Harvard t-shirt over her head.

To use a familiar expression, I guess that's pretty much when, you know, the wheels came off the wagon.

***

End Part I


	2. Exhibit A 2

 

Exhibit A by Bramble: Part II

Rating: R

Category: Josh/Donna

Summary: Donna ends up at Josh's place drunk, wearing an uncomfortable dress and old insecurities. Josh gets flustered and blushes a lot. The next morning it's Donna's turn.

***

"Donna!"

"Do you think my breasts too small?"

"Ok, put your shirt back on". I look at the maroon t-shirt on the bed, the pattern of the comforter, the clock on the bedside table, anything but the topless Donna in my bed.

"It's your shirt, Josh, look at me".

"No. Put *my* shirt back on then. Please?" I think I'm actually squeaking now. I suddenly think it's a good thing that Joey Lucas had no idea what she was talking about.

Of course, I also realize that Joey Lucas probably knew exactly what she was talking about but that now is not the best time to address that.

"Josh, you have to look to let me know what you think."

"Donna..."

I should still try to sneak out of the room, but I know she'll probably follow me out to the couch. I need to get this contained as soon as possible before one of us does something stupid; I slowly start to retrace my steps once again and sit down on the bed by her folded knees.

"Have I ever done this to you when I was drunk?"

"Yes", she replies loudly as she makes a face at me.

"I've asked you if my breasts were big enough?"

She rolls her eyes. Well, kind of. She obviously does the best she can and I interpret it as an eye roll.

"No, but you've kept me up for all hours asking me all sorts of things", she stops briefly and accents her next phrase by poking me in the chest during each word, "all sorts of *dumb* things, Josh." The 'dumb' part gets me an extra hard poke.

"So you admit this is dumb? Good, that's half the battle right there. If I answer you, will you put the shirt back on and pass out or something?"

"That's what I thought. You don't you want to even look at them." Her voice quivers and her eyes start to fill with tears.

Crap. The schedule has definately been blown to hell.

If there's one thing I have learned about Donna when she is drunk, it is that she...well, she doesn't get intoxicated very often but when she does, she has two possible personalities: giggly and sad. Okay, those are actually three things about drunk Donna, but bear with me, because I'm not thinking clearly right now.

***

During the last few months of the campaign, we were in Fargo, North Dakota for a couple of days. I was finishing up some work with Toby, we were meeting with the office manager of the Bartlet for President headquarters there. Meanwhile, in my absence, Donna, Sam, and CJ had gone out to a bar. Because, really, what else is there to do in North Dakota but drink?

They all show up in my room later that night, loud and carrying on like lunatics. Not one among them was feeling much pain but Donna was hammered. I mean really hammered. They bought her shots all night long trying to get her to divulge funny office stories about me. Which is kind of silly, because Sam knows many amusing stories and Donna had only worked for me about four months then -- but who knows what was going through Sam's and CJ's heads that night, we were in North Dakota, for god's sake.

So after they get back and start bugging me in my hotel room, Donna relates this whole story to us about Tim and how she had killed him. I was understandably concerned until I found out that Tim was a parakeet.

Little Donnatella, was five or six years old (she couldn't remember her age exactly while relating the story) and one morning she had gotten up early, wanting to play with Tim. She wasn't supposed to get him out of his cage by herself.

So of course she did.

She wrapped her little hands around the small creature, only the way a child can, and accidentally squeezed him too hard while taking him out and killed him. Seriously; this happened...squeezed to death by Donna.

Afterwards she tried to put him back on his little perch so her parents wouldn't know what she had done, but he kept falling over. It was all CJ, Sam, and I could do to not laugh hysterically but she was just so sad about it. By the time she got to the end of her tale, she was actually sobbing. I held her while she cried over Tim, telling her it was okay and that Tim was in a much better place now. It was weeks before I heard the end of that from CJ and Sam, although oddly enough, they never teased Donna.

***

My point being, I know how this can go once her voice starts breaking. I need to handle this very carefully. I start speaking with my eyes fixed firmly on my shoes.

"Donna, of course I want to, I'm just trying to, you know, be polite, to think of you. You're going to be really mortified about this tomorrow. I'm also trying not to act in a way that will get me sued. Okay, so I guess, I'm thinking of me too." I look up at her face; she doesn't look too convinced. I'll try another tactic. "CJ thinks I'm a pig as it is; she will find out about this somehow and throw things at me, maybe even hit me about the head and neck with blunt objects, I just know it. Do you want that?"

I steal a glance, nope, not working. Now the lip is quivering as well. Can crying be far off? I shudder thinking about that. If there is one thing I can handle less right now than a topless Donna, it's a topless, crying Donna. That would require comforting and, quite frankly, I'm not sure I have the willpower for that if she refuses to cover herself up. I think I just have to suck it up, answer her question as quickly as possible, and get the hell out of the bedroom. Maybe she won't even remember this tomorrow.

Of course, I'll remember everything and will probably be spending quite a bit of time replaying certain parts of this evening.

"Why doesn't stuff like this ever happen to Toby?" I mutter, sighing and continue, "If it'll get you to stop this and go to sleep, I'll answer: they're nice. Can I go know"?

"You have to look, Joshua."

"I did, Donnatella, on the couch, the *first* time. They're VERY nice." Fuck, there's the high vice again. Welcome back, high voice. I missed you, why don't you stay awhile and get comfortable?

"The light is better in here." She states plainly, like it's the most sensible thing in the world.

"Alright, fine." I look. I look a second longer than I should if I'm just trying to humor her, this fact doesn't escape me.

"They're round and pretty, I would say perky even. I like them. I'm going to go now". Okay, I think I'm definitely blushing now and it's kind of hot in here. Of course, I didn't turn the heat up before. That fact helped this exercise a whole lot.

"But are they too small? Would it help if you touched them?"

"Donna, they're in proportion", she starts to interrupt me, I wave her off, "no, I'm not saying that they're small. I'm saying it's relative. You're thin and willowy and they are perfectly in proportion to your body size. If they were huge you would be unbalanced and fall over a lot. I'd have to fire you for not being able to do your job due to your gigantean breasts and your tendency to shift to and fro, like a big, top-heavy palm tree. Then you would definitely sue me and CJ would throw very heavy things at me. So you see, your beautiful, perfectly well-sized breasts are actually saving the government from certain doom. You should be very proud," I stop. Did she just ask me.."did you just ask me if I wanted to touch them?"

She giggles.

"Now you're laughing. What happened to the quivering voice and the big sad eyes?" I don't give her time to answer. "Please put my t-shirt back on now. Please".

"Do you really like them? I think you're just saying that. Are you sure you don't want to..."

What does she want? I'm dying here, Donna. Do you have an idea what you are doing to me? I really like them. All of me likes them. Hmm, okay, here goes nothing. I take her hand and place it on the bulge in my pants.

"Donna, this is exhibit A. Exhibit A likes them as much as I do. I'm really not just saying that. See, looking at them has caused this," I emphasize my perfectly reasonable point by squeezing her hand a little bit on top of me. Okay, so, maybe that wasn't the greatest idea. "Now, I really want this conversation to be over."

"Ummm.. Josh, I'm not sure I'm supposed to be touching this."

"Right, you think? Donna!"

"What?" She asks in an innocent voice.

"Stop doing that to exhibit A!"

"What?"

"That!"

"I'm making it bigger.." she giggles again.

"Aghhhh!" I have to get out of here. I jump off of the bed, land on my feet, and face her trying to look casual. Kind of hard to do with the burden of proof I've got going here; let me correct that: impressive burden of proof.

"Josh, do you really call it exhibit A?" She picks up the discarded Harvard t-shirt and sleepily slips it back on, "that's kind of weird, I mean 'little Josh', would make more sense." She lays down and pulls the covers up to her chin, "maybe even Tim", she adds dreamily. Then she yawns, "gonna go to sleep now".

"Of course you are", I mutter.

I have a pretty good idea of what I'm going to be doing now -- I'm going to go get Tim out of his cage.

Looking back, I'm not sure bringing out the evidence was a good idea. Maybe Sam's right, I'm not a real lawyer.

"Wha?" she asks hazily. I'm surprised she isn't snoring yet, after all, her job here is done.

"Nothing. I'll be on the couch. Your wake up call is at 6:00, I'll take you home in the morning so you can get clothes that are more appropriate than what is on my floor out there." Impulsively, I lean down and kiss her on the forehead before I hit the light switch on my way out of the bedroom.

Okay, so maybe this was a bit harder than I thought.

Oh...just shut up.

***

End Part II


	3. Exhibit A 3

 

Exhibit A by Bramble: Part III

Rating: R

Category: Josh/Donna

Summary: Donna ends up at Josh's place drunk, wearing an uncomfortable dress and old insecurities. Josh gets flustered and blushes a lot. The next morning it's Donna's turn.

***

Something is making me bounce. I'm bouncing, I'm on a bed, I think. It's bouncing too. I hear myself moan as I open my eyes. Josh is sitting on the bed looking at me. Good god he's smirking. I pull the covers up over my face. Okay, this is better, I add the pillow on top for good measure. I am now surrounded by Josh-scent, I'm not sure if this helps or not.

"Goodmorning, sleepyhead."

"Josh?" I state the obvious trying to buy time and figure out why I'm in his bed.

"Yep, how ya doing there, Donnatella?"

"Don't feel so good". I pull the pillow and covers off my head and try to sit up. Well, maybe I won't do that just yet. He's dressed for work and looks tired but pretty normal. Okay, so it was just me drunk last night. That's good, I think.

"I brought you some water and some aspirin, they're on the table." He's being sweet. Why is he being sweet? What happened last night? But I can't think about that just yet because I really need water.

I squint towards the bedside table, ughh, 6:02. I sit up slowly, and gratefully reach for his offering. I have to hold it with both hands while I drink half of the glass.

"Here, don't forget the these".

He hands me the pills and I swallow them with the rest of the water. He's still staring at me. It's like he's setting me up to drop a bomb and waiting until all of the basic, 'see I'm a nice guy' things are covered. Let's see, I've gotten water and aspirin, yep, it should be any time now.

"Okay, so here's the fun part", he smirks, "how much do you remember about last night?"

Well, I think, as I haven't quite recovered my verbal skills yet; there was the bar and my roommate. Her leaving with that environmental lobbyist, the annoying guy hitting on me, needing to leave but having no cab fare home, and coming over to Josh's because it was only two blocks away. He sighs as he waits for my answer.

"After you got here." Josh adds impatiently.

Oh, let's see...my eyes bulge out as I remember last night after Josh got home and suddenly I can feel myself blushing. Oh. My. God.

"I take it you recall the great bosom interrogation of 2001? And might I add that you are looking very perky this morning", he grins at me, not even bothering to cover his glee at being able to torment me.

CJ is right, the man is a pig.

So, here's the thing. I've always been a little sensitive about my chest. My sisters are much more generously proportioned than I am. It's always bugged me a little. One night 'Dr. Freeride' made a comment about my lack of...endowment. Okay, he made many comments about that. I know, he's an ass but it still bothered me a little. Okay, at the time it bothered me a lot. I mean, it's hardly a thought that I give much merit to now, but after a few tequila shots the stupid ideas come back to haunt you.

I look back over at Josh; I think he's actually enjoying this. I want to get mad at him but I really can't. He doesn't know the background, he just thinks he's got something amusing he can hang over my head for coffee now. Besides, it's what we do, the chasing around the playground, the pig tail pulling, the... wait, I almost remembered something about last night, it was right there...oh well, it's gone now.

Unfortunately, Josh is not.

He's still staring at me and I can feel my blush deepen. I refuse to give him anymore satisfaction. I put my face down into my hands so he can't see me turn any redder. I don't think I said anything too revealing last night. I think I just made him look at my chest. Oh my god, Josh looked at my breasts. I start to feel a little flushed and I don't think it's just embarrassment.

"I flashed you last night." I muffle out through my fingers. I start to rub my temples with my fingertips, hoping to bore a hole into my brain and end it all quickly. Let him explain my dead body in his bed. That will show him to enjoy torturing me.

"Twice", he adds helpfully.

"Can we never talk about that? I mean never." C'mon Josh, work with me here. I have dirt on you too. Remember the vomit-covered suit and the red panties around your neck? I sure do.

"What part was that again, Donnatella? When you got sick in the bathroom?" He asks. He's totally screwing with me now; Mr. Smirky thinks this is just sooooo funny.

I admit, I do deserve it a little bit. I'll throw out a small bone and then he better start being nicer to me. "The whole...'boob thing', Josh". I look up to see him smiling at me.

"The whole boob thing?" he repeats after me, his voice quaky with unused laughter, "'kay, as long as we also never talk about the hand job you tried to give me through my pants."

What? The...hand...job? "On my god", I murmur, I do remember that. He put my hand on his... okay, now I am really blushing. "I'm sorry about that, ummm, see, there was this tequila, and.."

"It's okay, you just should probably try to keep your hands to yourself there, Donna. I mean, I know it's hard to control yourself around me but you really ought to try."

I swear, the man is one big smirk.

"Yeah, but didn't you actually start it and put my hand on your.." I trail off, suddenly too flustered to finish that sentence.

He really did start it. I remember that part distinctly now. He put my hand down and squeezed it; made me squeeze him, there was a lot to squeeze. Okay, I shouldn't think about that right now.

"I thought we weren't talking about this incident?" He clears his voice and starts to look uncomfortable. The conversation shifts from my body to his and the man starts to squirm a bit. Okay, now *I'm* amused.

"Do you mean, not talking about it like that time in the hospital, before you came home and you were wearing the open hospital gown in back and I saw your butt?" I ask sweetly.

Joey Lucas is right about one thing, the man has a mighty cute ass. And I've seen it...bare, so there. Hey, that rhymed. I start to giggle at my new little poem.

"Donna! Part of never talking about something, is you know, never talking about it. And I'll ask you kindly to stop thinking about it too."

"Sorry. Okay, yes, we will never talk about that, my, um, 'attributes', or", I smirk, "exhibit A."

"Or what you tried to do with... exhibit A", he smirks back.

"Agreed", I nod my head quickly.

"But here's something we can talk about", he pauses, his face changing to one of seriousness and concern, "why were you in a bar by yourself, being harassed by a weird guy?"

"Probably because of the dress, it isn't mine, it's my roommate's. She calls it her 'boy-beacon'. That's ironic because she hooked up with this granola lobbyist and left me there alone. It was her idea that I wear the dress last night, she said..."

"Donna, I don't care about the damn dress!" He interrupts me suddenly. When he continues speaking, his voice is softer and as I look at him, his face reveals everything. Everything he tries so very hard not to show me and I know suddenly it's not just me that feels 'it', this thing between us.

"How did this happen?" He reaches over and lightly touches my arm, right above the elbow. There by his fingers are three small bruises, which, surprise; are finger-shaped.

"Weird guy was grabbing my arm trying to get me to go home with him. I have alabaster skin, I bruise easily, Josh." He pales and I add, "It's okay. Nothing happened. He just, he grabbed my arm and tried to steer me towards his car once I left the bar. No big deal," I pause, his expression is hard to read; so I continue, "I reached in to my purse and took out my handy-dandy pepper spray and offered to paint his face with it. He backed off. End of story."

Of course I was clutching the pepper spray in my hand for the two block walk here but I'm not going to mention that part.

"Do you remember his name?"

"Whose name?"

"The weird guy."

"Paul, maybe? Hmmm, no that's not it, why?"

"I'm just curious."

"Josh, you can't use your government connections to hurt local gomers."

"The ones that grab you hard enough to leave bruises, yes, I can. At least I would if you'd work with me a bit here and tell me his name."

I smile at him. "I honestly don't remember and if I did I wouldn't tell you. But your offer is really kind of sweet, a little caveman-y, but still sweet".

"Donna, I'm serious. I swear to god, I'm going to get you a panic button just like Zoey."

"Josh".

"You can call me you know", he says softly.

If I wasn't sitting two feet away from him, I might not have even heard him.

"What?"

"If you're out and a guy is getting weird or god forbid, doing anything that's going to leave you with bruises the next day, or your roommate leaves you somewhere without a ride home, you can call me. He stops and meets my eyes while he grabs a hold of my hand, "Donna, you call me."

Once again, I feel as though this morning is monumental in some way, that something is passing between us, something that I know deep down neither of us can ignore for much longer.

"I'll call you". I assure him, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Thank you. And by the way, I'm going to need you to be working late for the next, oh say five years, so I really don't see much socializing in your future anyway."

"Ha, ha, that's very funny." I smile as we move back quickly into familiar territory but continue to hold hands.

"Besides, I hear Ainsley has her very own nightclub down in the basement, you can just go down there, get all liquored up, then come back up and show me your..."

"Josh!" I let go of him and swat him on the shoulder.

"Sorry, couldn't resist that one."

He reaches over towards the end of the bed to grab some sweats, handing them to me he grins and says, "Put these on, I assume you don't want to wear the dress home this morning." He stands up, walks towards the bedroom door, "We need to get going so you can get in to work at a reasonable hour and your boss doesn't yell at you...and Donna?"

"Yeah?" I drag my sorry-ass out of bed and walk towards him on my way to the bathroom, stopping a few feet in front of him.

"You do know that you're perfect the way you are, right?" He pauses, "I mean, nothing has to do with the size of anything or the way you look," he sheepishly finishes, "You are smart and funny and beautiful; you're perfect. All of you is perfect and beautiful. You know that, right?"

I feel my eyes start to tear up. Yep, can't ignore this much longer at all. Today, though, shouldn't be the day.

But just knowing that it's coming makes my heart swell.

"Josh, I was drunk last night, I was being silly. I don't really think my breast size is a big deal." I give him a smile and an obvious opening to get us back on track.

He smiles back, I even get the dimples.

"Okay, I just don't want to walk into the office one day and find that you've...added anything."

I find his choice of comeback pleasantly surprising and knowing Josh like I do know him, this wasn't the first comment his evil little mind thought of...it was probably the third.

"Because then exhibit A would make another appearance?"

"Donna, exhibit A makes a lot of appearances around you as it is.."

Huh? This is really the most fascinating morning; it's been a very revealing experience for both of us I think.

"I mean, um, 'cuz..." He's backpedaling now -- I should really help him out.

"Because I'm perfect, Joshua?"

He sighs and looks at me, not a smirk in sight. "Yes, Donnatella, you are most definitely that."

"Okay then", I close up the distance between us and I kiss his cheek lightly, keeping my lips pressed against him for just a second longer than I should. He's so warm there, I just can't help it.

"So are you, you know", I whisper in his ear, as his arm circles me and rests on the small of my back.

"Yeah", he pauses, pulls back and looks at me with the self-satisfied grin he usually reserves for Republicans after he has gotten them to admit something incriminating, and adds, "I do know that."

"Jerk", I hit his arm playfully. "I think I like Tim better than you", I say slyly, as I walk past him and close the bathroom door behind me. I hear him mutter something about 'she better not mean that damn parakeet'.

I chuckle.

What do you think, Josh?

***

The end

  


End file.
